Ron and Hermione: The Untold Story
by viviennepomme
Summary: Follow Ron and Hermione through intimate adventures after the Battle of Hogwarts. Mature content.


_Ron and Hermione: The Untold Story_

By Vivienne Pomme

I do not own Harry Potter and I am by no means J.K. Rowling.

This is an unofficial story.

Chapter One – All Was Well

While Harry's thoughts lay stringing a combined desire for sleep and food, Ron and Hermione were engulfed with waves of relief. _It was over._ And now they could begin their lives. The three of them would no longer live in a tent, scavenging food and relying on Hermione's dreadful cooking. Ron smiled as relief washed over him.

"You reckon we could get some food from the Great Hall? I'm starving!" ejaculated Ron as the three of them walked out of Dumbledore's office. They could still hear Peeves singing on the top of his lungs, "WE DID IT! WEE POTTY'S THE ONE!"

"And Voldy's gone moldy!" sang Ron, flushing with glee at the thought of it all.

"We better go up to Gryffindor tower," Harry interjected, looking as tired as ever. "I think I could get Kreacher to bring us some sandwiches."

Hermione glanced over Harry at his suggestion. "Honestly, Harry!" she interjected, "After all we've been through, you want to make him get food for us?"

"It was just a suggestion…" He did not want to argue with her. He just wanted to crawl into his four-poster bed with a sandwich. Sleep and hunger battling for dominion inside him. But _he was free. _He no longer felt a lingering shadow over him, the one that forecast his doom every time, like Death himself crawling around behind him, lurking with his every step. _He was alive!_

"Kreacher!" he commanded. The elf appeared before them with a pop.

"Master Potter," the elf said with a low bow, his long nose touching the stone floor.

"Kreacher," Harry said, "You reckon you can bring us something to eat? We'll be in Gryffindor tower and we haven't had anything for a while." He yawned as he spoke.

"Kreacher will bring Master sandwiches up to the Gryffindor tower," said the elf. "Anything else young masters would desire?" Hermione's face looked stricken. The elf was grimy. His tea towel, that was draped around his body like a toga, was zinged at the bottom, as if it had momentarily caught fire. There were visible bruises on his hands and scratches on his face. None of them had tasted a scrap of food since Aberforth's sandwiches before the Battle, but Hermione was torn between her hunger and her feelings for the elf who had so willingly shouted, "FIGHT! FIGHT FOR MY MASTER REGULUS!" during the final phase of the Battle. But, in the days when they camped in tents, hiding from Death Eaters, snatchers and Voldemort, she was the one who dealt the best with the scarcity of food. She might get a little short-tempered, especially with Ron, but she could be herself on an empty stomach. But she knew Harry and especially Ron could do with some sustenance.

"That's all we need Kreacher," said Hermione kindly. "Please get some rest after." She smiled at the elf and Kreacher bowed to her.

"Thank you, Mistress Granger," said the elf. He bowed at Ron and Harry, saying as he did so, "Master Weasley, Master." He disappeared with a light pop.

"Let's get out of her." Ron motioned to the pair of them and, as he did so, he took Hermione's hand in his.

Harry caught Hermione's eye in this, making Hermione's cheeks blush scarlet on her face. Harry thought he could practically see steam coming from her red face. He was happy for them but as he looked towards their linked hands, he couldn't help but think about that beautiful red headed girl whom he surely loved, whom he had fought for. He was in trouble, he knew. If Hermione had tried to curse Ron when he came back, what would Ginny do to _him_? He knew he had just saved the entire Wizarding World but what did that matter? Would she take him back and forgive him? Or would she try to hex him? Her bat-bogie hex was infamous and Harry didn't fancy being on the wrong end of her wand when she was angry, chosen one or not.

They walked quietly along the hallway, towards the right-wing corridor that lead to the Portrait of the Fat Lady. She was accompanied, like many times before, with her friend Violet, and they giggled, celebrating the defeat of Voldemort as much as those in the Great Hall cheered.

"Can we go in?" Ron inquired, taking a lopsided look at Violet, who was tripping over a goblet, drunk with happiness.

"Ah?" The Fat Lady squinted at them. "Oh! The lovely boy!" she hiccupped. "You did it! You defeated him!"

"Erm," said Harry, looking peaky from lack of sleep. "Can we go in, though?"

She grimaced as Violet flumped over her chair. "Yes, yes, go in!" she said exasperatedly.

They went through the climbed through the hole and it was like nothing had ever happened inside the Common Room. The smell of crackling fire engulfing them, they threw themselves on top of the squashiest armchairs they could find and the three of them dosed off for what seemed like an hour until they were woken by the smell of bacon and ham wafting throughout the tower. Kreacher had just apparated with their sandwiches. He had added a bit of treacle tart for Harry, for he knew how partial Harry was for a piece of the sweet desert.

Thanking the house-elf, they devoured their sandwiches, which kept re-appearing on the tray the little elf had set up on the coffee table. The Common Room was now as bright as ever, the morning light shining brightly inside, yellow rays alighting the crimson walls, giving the room an heavenly glow that was surely prompted on by their lifted moods.

Finally, feeling so stuffed that they could hardly move, their appetites quenched and their hearts light, they could fight sleep no longer.

"Well, I'm beat!" exclaimed Ron, who at that very moment slapped his hands down on his knees and got up saying, "I'm going to bed." He looked longingly back at Hermione. "You coming?" he murmured, hardly whispering. He extended his hand towards Hermione who blushed but took his hand nonetheless. Ron and Hermione stared at one another, holding their breath. Harry suddenly became rather interested in his shoelaces and pretended he didn't see them giving each other loving looks. _Well, they had to put up with me and Ginny last year_, he thought. At last, Ron and Hermione seemed to snap out of the trance and Harry lead the way up to the boys' dormitories. They followed him up the spiral staircase. Hermione did not stop at the girls' dormitories, as Harry had expected, but kept holding Ron's hands as he led her towards the four-poster bed opposite the door. None of them wanted to be alone, not tonight. And it wouldn't be fair for him to ask Hermione to sleep somewhere else when they were so used to being together.

Harry clambered into his four-poster, shut the blinds and fell immediately into a blinding, tiresome sleep. The last time either of them had slept, it had been at Shell Cottage, before breaking into Gringotts Bank. They had grown so much since, fought and won the war that plagued them. He had done it. He had done what Dumbledore had asked him to do and he had survived. He thought about all of those people, like Fred, Remus and Tonks, who had scarified themselves for this 'greater good' and, although he felt guilty, he knew in his heart that they fought for Teddy and for a better future. They died so that others could live in a better world, a world without Lord Voldemort. He turned around and went soundly to sleep, thinking about joining Ginny and her family afterwards in the Great Hall, thinking of how much he wanted to kiss her, to hold her and wondering if she'd felt his desperation all those nights back in the tent where he stared at her immobile dot in the Gryffindor common room from the Marauder's Map.

Harry had closed the curtains of his four-poster bed before either Hermione or Ron could say anything. But they did not care. They were both equally exhausted, not having rested since leaving Shell Cottage at the crack of dawn. Since then, they had broken into Gringotts, escaped on the back of a half-blind dragon, jumped off the dragon, swam to shore and made tent, before leaving for Hogwarts that very evening. With little time to think, and no plans to talk about what ultimately needed to discuss. But, everything that remained unsaid was pointless. Ron and Hermione loved each other. They had pinned for one another for ages, only they had both been too hard-headed to admit it. And, tonight, everything had been said in that one kiss. They needed only each other right now. And so, they crawled on top of Ron's four-poster bed, and shut the curtains, falling into each other's arms, knowing they finally had one another, knowing everything was over and the only thing that they had the rest of their lives to sort out whatever they were.

Hermione's head lay on top of Ron's chest. They were both too deeply asleep to notice the gentle snoring emanating from Ron's mouth. With each deep breath, he lifted Hermione's head with his chest in a rhythmic motion. They dreamt of dark corridors and broken rubble but it did not disturb them for even in their sleep they knew the danger was past.

The sun was already on its way down when Ron stirred in his sleep, confused to find himself in a half-darkened room, wound tightly around something. Looking down, he found that Hermione had her arms wrap tight around his waist, her hair splayed like a halo around her head. She looked calm and undisturbed by nightmares, and as Ron stared he thought he could feel her stirring in her sleep, as though she was trying to wake up. Her eyes opened gently, and she looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking into hers.

"Mornin'" said Ron cheekily, going red in the ears, embarrassed no doubt by the fact that she had caught him staring at her.

Hermione looked around and, noting the change in lighting said, "Evening," and smiled. Ron approached her, his hands reaching for her cheeks, and kissed her full on the mouth. They stayed together for some time, still, enjoying the feeling of their pressed lips, until succumbing once more to utter exhaustion and sleeping for another hour, until the boy's dormitory was engulfed in darkness.

A streak of moonlight crept into Harry's four-poster bed from a sliver in the curtains. He opened his eyes an infinitesimal amount and saw that the moon was out, illuminating the dormitory from the window next to his bed. It was a sliver, thin but bright. He wondered if he had slept all day and if perhaps there was still dinner they were still serving dinner in the Great Hall. He was sure it was too late, that those who had stayed in the Great Hall might have gone home. He knew that Ginny might've been amongst those but would she leave without saying anything to him? Would the Weasley's leave without Ron, whom he could hear snoozing in the bed beside him? Somehow he couldn't imagine that they would. He thought that someone must've thought to go up to Gryffindor tower to find them, perhaps Ginny with her sleek red hair, coming to check on him, to check that he was alright.

"Harry!"

Someone pushed back his curtains, letting more moonlight inside his four-poster. "Wake up, mate!" Ron looked drowsy still from his nap. "I'm starving!" interjected Ron.

Harry realized that his own stomach had been grumbling in his sleep. "What time is it?" asked Harry, not bothering to look at his watch.

Hermione, who had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a jumper, said, "It's dinnertime. We thought you'd like to come with us."

Harry sat up, shaking his head. Putting on his glasses he said, "There's something we—I—need to do first." Ron and Hermione stared at him. "I want to put this back where it belongs." He took out the Elder Wand from the pouch around his neck and said, "I need to…for Dumbledore." His voice cracked.

"We know, mate." Ron's piercing blue eyes stared at Harry, showing him that he understood. _An invincible wand _but it would never be safe. It was only safe with _him_, Dumbledore, who kept it secret, who was worthy of it because he did not boast of it to his enemies.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked out of the portrait hole two minutes later, determined to place the Elder Wand with its previous master who had so dutifully kept it away, hidden from the world.

The marble tombstone was as white and shinning as ever, gleaming over the pale moonlight as if calling for them. Harry paused in front of it, unable to move, remembering how Voldemort had opened the tomb and stolen what had never been his.

"Harry…" Hermione's voice cracked. She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed together, tears in her eyes. She lifted her own wand and said, "Wangardium Leviosa!" and lifted the marble lid, revealing, as it had done when Voldemort had opened it, a completely untouched Dumbledore, who's pale fingers seemed to almost stretch out, reaching out for the missing piece of himself. Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped forward but it was Harry who finally lifted the old man's limp fingers and slipped the wand into his hands. Harry looked down at the man who had regretted so many things in his life and yet gave so much of himself for Harry, for the Wizarding World. Hermione flicked her wand and the tomb's lid gently eased back into its place. It was done. Everything. It was all complete and suddenly Harry felt that all was complete and only one thing was missing from his life.

_Ginny. _A sudden urge to find her enthralled him. He _must_ find her; she _must _know that he would have never left her if he had had a choice. "Let's go up to the castle," Harry said as he nudged the other two to follow him.

A yellow-haired woman with cat-eyed spectacles walked up around Hogsmeade Village wearing acid-green robes that matched the quill sticking out of her mouth. She bit the quill, looking down at a piece of parchment she was holding, trying to generate enough material for a scandalous article involving her heroes. She had been certain Harry Potter would be celebrating with the rest of the Wizarding World in Hogsmeade, drinking fire whiskey with his mates. She had not found him, but she was determined to catch him, even a glimpse of him, for a fresh vat of gossip. There _must _be a way inside the Castle.

Harry left Ron and Hermione at the Great Hall as soon as he saw the red, beaming face of Ginny. Hermione sat down next to Percy, who was looking stricken, his horn-rimmed glasses dirty and his eyes still puffy from crying next to Fred's body. The Weasley's were by far the largest group in the Great Hall, their crimson heads making it invisible for them to blend in with the rest of the crowd gathering once again around Harry, who had eyes for no one but Ginny, who's flowery scent was all he could perceive at the moment.

Mrs. Weasley, through her own puffed up eyelids, saw the affection in Harry's eyes towards her daughter, for whom she had fought so hard today. Molly sighed as the two grew closer together, knowing it was only a matter of time. Drawing her gaze over to her youngest son, she saw the same look reflected in his eyes as he stared down at Hermione. She nudged Arthur on the shoulder and pointed her head towards the couple.

"Finally!" muttered Mr. Weasley, under his breath so as to not be heard by the rest of the clang. But Percy, hearing his father from across the table, looked up and followed Mr. Weasley's gaze to the couple next to him. At that very moment, Ron's fingers trembled as he reached over to grab Hermione's hand. She blushed but took his hand in hers, keeping so still so as to not startle it away.

"Oh there you are! Molly! Arthur!" Professor McGonagall trotted quickly up to their enclosure in the Gryffindor table. "I need a quick word," she said as she hurried them out with her, towards the room where Fred's body lay undisturbed.

Ron's hands clenched in Hermione's as he noticed McGonagall scooting his parents to talk, no doubt, about his dead brother. His gaze searched for George, searching around the red-headed family, and finally landing on a sullen figure, whose hands covered his face while his body heaved in, Ron had no doubt about it, a crying fit. Hermione noticed Ron staring at George and asked, timidly, "Do you think…?"

"Nah, he needs to be alone, I think." There was a hint of doubt in his voice but Ron covered this up by gulfing down a piece of Yorkshire pudding.

"Do you want to go?" asked Ron when he had finally finished his pudding.

Hermione looked at him intently, a mixture of pity and love in her eyes.

Ron felt that he could not helped himself as he traced his thumb over Hermione's cheek, cupping her face in his hands. "Let's walk for…a bit…"

Hermione got up, looking at her plate of food with sadness, no doubt thinking of all the work the house-elves were facing from all these extra guests that had to be fed. She shook her head, and, grabbing Ron's hands in hers, she led him out of the Great Hall. Stares from not only the Weasley family but most of the people at the Great Hall followed them. Even Ginny and Harry looked up from the stupor of their gaze to look at the bushy-haired girl pull Ron away from the crowds eyeing them both.

They walked passed Mrs. Weasley on the way out of the Great Hall. Ron felt his ears go pink, as he passed her but he did not make excuses as to why he was holding Hermione's hand or why they were leaving together, going upstairs to wander off in dark corridors, ready to discover the new places they could be together.

"Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. Ron stopped dead in his tracks, both he and Hermione turning around to face, pink in the cheeks, a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley. "We're leaving tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock to your Auntie Muriel's. I expect you both packed and ready in the Great Hall. Don't be late!" Hermione could tell that she was trying to bring a sense of normalcy in her tone of voice.

"Mum," Ron whispered, disengaging himself from Hermione and pulling his mother into a tight hug. She squeezed him back until pulling away, tenderly cupping his left cheek. Hermione witnessed the scene, feeling like she was an intruder and, as she started to back away, Mrs. Weasley grabbed a hold of her hand and the three of them hugged. Mrs. Weasley pulled away, looking into Hermione's eyes. "Don't stay up too late." She half smiled, a shadow of sadness creeping unto her expression. "We have to leave at 8 o'clock on the dot or Muriel won't let me hear the last of it!" She turned away, leaving Ron and Hermione standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs.

Hermione turned and stared at Ron. "That was…comforting, Ron."

He snickered. "Not a teaspoon anymore, am I?"

"What?" Hermione inquired, looking confused.

"'Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon!'" Ron quoted at her.

She laughed and felt, suddenly, normal. This was Ron, _her_ Ron, the one who always made her laugh, even in moments where all she wanted to do was cry. "C'mon," she said as she pulled him up towards the stairs.

"Yeah…" Ron said, "We should, umm…we should umm…" He looked terrified. "…Get some sleep?"

"It's half past eight."

"Yeah, well…" He didn't finish this last sentence, wondering what was going to happen. His hands trembled as he took hers.

As they were heading up to the third floor, Ron suddenly blurted, "Imshrrytooksolong."

"What?" Hermione turned around inquisitively.

Ron took a deep breath, "I'm sorry it took me so long." He stared down at his shoes, which were singed on the sides, his shoe laces barely holding his trainers together.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, though, truth be told, she knew more than she led on. She always did and she felt guilty about it. Why had they suffered unnecessarily?

"You know…" But _did_ she know?

Hermione nodded. "I know." She took a step closer to him and kissed him full on the mouth for a second time.

Off the corridor, they heard a thud coming from one of the suits of armors that lined the stone walls of the third floor. Ron and Hermione broke apart at the sudden sound. Most of the suits of armor, back in position from the Battle, were missing arms and limbs. One particular suit to the far left, was tumbling over, as if it could no longer support itself. No doubt, Hermione thought, it had suffered too much damage from the Battle to stand up straight. "Do you think Hogwarts will ever be the same?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"No," Ron said breathily. "I don't think any of us will be the same either. Bloody hell," he said, passing a long-fingered hand through his disheveled red hair.

"You need a haircut," Hermione said matter-of-factly, passing her own hands through his hair affectionately.

"What, and let you cut it?" Ron flashed Hermione a cheeky grin. "No way!"

"Fine," Hermione turned around, rolling her eyes. "I bet Mrs. Weasley would looooove to cut it for you! Maybe I should," she raised her eyebrow, "tell her…"

"You wouldn't."

"Oh. I would." They grinned at each other, and suddenly it was all so hilarious. Everything that happened. They found themselves quite unexpectedly hollering with laughter and soon Ron pulled Hermione towards him, kissing her firmly.

Hermione pulled away suddenly, looking over Ron's shoulders, her brows furrowed together.

"You alright?" Ron asked, looking curious.

"I thought I heard—" Hermione began. "Never mind." She had suddenly heard a buzzing near them but shook it off as probably a night beetle. She turned back towards Ron, saying, "Only I don't fancy being caught here."

"'Mione," Ron whispered in her ear, "What do ya think's gonna happen? Filch'll turn up and say, 'Oi! Stop snogging you two!'" They laughed.

"No, but—" Ron cut her off with a deep kiss. "Listen!" She tried pushing him off but he persisted.

"Shh." She felt the vibrations from his hush deep in her throat, making her forget what she wanted to say. After a minute, he said into her mouth, "'Eht's gah ihn eer," which she took to mean he wanted to go into the empty classroom behind them.

Ron pushed the classroom door open and led Hermione inside. Her hands would not stay still as she pondered what would happen tonight. They had suffered for so long and been through the thick of it with Harry.

She walked towards Ron, who had been staring out the arched and intricately lined classroom windows. They stared out towards the grounds together, where a mass of people with lit wands and lamps scurried hurriedly about, running last minute errands and looking for lost loved ones among the giant fir trees lining the Castle. She approached him from behind and put both her arms around his waist, resting her head on the side of his right arm. "It'll seems so far away, in a way." He spun around and pressed his lips upon her vehemently, pushing her backwards into a desk that promptly toppled over.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, surprised to find herself toppling with the wooden desk. They both looked sheepishly at each other and laughed somewhat shyly. An insect buzzed outside, but the world was out there and inside they were them—just the two of them. Just them. After gazing intently at each other for what felt like hours, Hermione's face glowed bright pink and she turned her head, looking behind, trying to hide her embarrassment. The days in the tent seemed ages ago, a time where they lived plainly, changing in front of each other and surviving as best they could. Killing Voldemort's horcruxes was first, their feelings always came second. But, tonight, now, they could finally _talk_.

Hermione's mouth opened, trying to formulate the proper words but she was silenced once more with another peck. Ron pulled away without deepening the kiss, looking at Hermione, expecting her to storm off, leave him and break his heart. Instead, she moved forward and tenderly pressed her lips on his, entangling her hands in his bright orange hair, her beaded bag falling with a loud and unexpected thud on the stone floor. This was _it_, what Celestina Warbeck sang about, the cauldron full of love they all longed for. And they were _it_. Hermione pushed Ron backwards, against the windowpane and pressed herself against him, willing him to do the same.

With each kiss, their hands roamed more freely, almost in desperation. Ron responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off the ground. She swung her legs around his hips, which seemed to excite Ron even more. He spun around, as if he were Disapperating them into another world, and turned them round, pressing Hermione against the window. He made the most of her confusion and parted with her lips, pressing his own upon her neck and kissing it tenderly. Hermione oozed and ahh'd, making noises Ron had never heard coming out of her lips, her eyes shut tightly, holding onto Ron so tightly as if she were afraid of falling.

As she squeezed him tight, both legs around his waist, Ron suddenly realized that he was about to make love to Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of their age, and that it was her voice—and certainly her love—that brought him back when he was lost. "'Mione," he moaned necking her, "Love you." His voice was hoarse, as he was deeply entwined around her. She reached around him, giving herself enough space to say, "I love you too, Ronald." She said it calmly, as she let Ron take her, ride her away. His kisses healed her suffering, washing all the bad memories, all the struggles away with his lips.

They parted, though still nose to nose, giving themselves enough space to do away with their clothing. It was just getting in the way. Ron had never _seen_ Hermione like this, so carefree, untroubled by the fact that they were both snogging whilst bare-bottomed. As he pressed his fingers in and out of her body, Hermione shivered and moaned, screwing her eyelids tight, wrinkles forming between her eyes. "Rooooon," she wailed, as she squeezed his shoulders, causing him to lose balance and topple on top of her. Hermione had not seemed to notice that they had tumbled towards the cold stone floor. Ron did not care. He felt like he had finally let the lion inside him lose, he was ready to pounce.

Forcing himself to slow down, feeling his erection pressed against Hermione's thigh, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were stormy, hazed and unfocused. Her breath was rough and he could see her chest bobbing up and down with each breath she took. She was mesmerizing, hot in the face, glistening streams of sweat running down the sides of her neck. "Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed. She smiled sheepishly, and he was sure his grin was just as sheepish.

Taking one deep breath that filled his chest to the breaking point, he scooted Hermione, dragging her gently down towards him. She bit her lip as she parted her legs, grabbing hold of his neck and making him kiss her while he penetrated her.

"Argh!" she gasped, moaning into his mouth.

Ron thrusted backwards and forwards, as Hermione's hips met his feebly. She was lost, wriggling on the floor, full of lust and want of Ron. She reached her hand out for his face, lifting herself off the ground to meet his lips as his thrusts shook them both backwards and forwards, into oblivion, into the future. Hermione gasped for air, letting yelps and yaps of pleasure and surprise, music to Ron's very pink ears. He couldn't believe that he was shagging her, the witch of his dreams, the woman he had longed to kiss for ages. Hermione's pink breasts shoot upwards as she arched her back, Hermione whimpering, her arms clawing at his chest. He leaned down and kissed them, plowing her breasts together as they jumped upwards and downwards with each movement he made.

He kissed her collarbone and slowly worked his way back up to her lips. She dug her nails into his chest and, _Merlin's pants_! He couldn't take it anymore. He thrust himself as deeply as he could, into her wet pussy and poured himself inside her. "Ron!" she yelled, as Ron whispered in her ear saying over and over again as he kissed her, "'Mione."


End file.
